


A New Kind of Hell

by Winterstar



Series: Sins of the Day [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multiple Personalities, PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony sits by Steve's bed as he recovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Kind of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series of short stories that will all fit into the same verse. You should probably read them in order.

The night dreams of sacred places, places only the ghosts can tread. He sits, hands clasped together, between his knees as he hunches forward with little hope and less understanding. There have been very few times in his life when he's at a loss. Today, as he waits, he knows he is not only at a loss, but he is lost. 

The bed before him, in the sterile room, reminds him of the moments he watched his mother in the hospital bed, near death, brain dead. He gulps back the bile in his throat and scrubs his hand through his hair. He recalls the last time he'd seen Steve hooked up to machines, beaten and bruised. It had been the first time they had a sit down and come to Jesus moment. Tony lectured Steve on the definition of team while Steve sat there with the new guy Sam Wilson on his left, and smiled at Tony. 

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, even though it looked like it hurt to do so and said, “Right back at ya.” He smiled, warm and inviting, as if he hadn’t been dredged from the Potomac. 

It had been the smile that broke Tony, brought him around to that boyish charm and that whole Greatest Generation aura that Captain America just exuded. If he admitted to himself he fell for the big lug right there in the antiseptic smelling hospital room, fingering the edge of Steve's shield that he'd plucked out of the Potomac. 

It had been an easy romance but a strange one. He’d broken up with Pepper just weeks before (truth be told, she broke up with him when she found out there was more to Iron Man than a few suits), and suddenly he found a new kind of love- with Steve. Their romance had been legendary and whirlwind, and they'd married a year later. Now, less than six months had past and he's sitting vigil next to his super serum husband as Steve fights for his life. Two weeks, Steve had been missing for two weeks. The Avengers searched, looked everywhere, tore down the whole damned world and couldn't find him until the man responsible for it all walked through the Tower's front door, cradling a comatose Captain, begging for help. 

Tony presses his hands against his face, feels the rough stubble of his unkempt beard, and hisses through his teeth. He can’t remember the last time he bathed or drank anything, or even ate. The thought that Steve is so wounded that the serum is having a hard time adjusting and balancing against the injuries and his body’s failing pace -it cannot make positive - progress terrifies Tony. He hasn’t worried about Steve in the past, how could he? Why would he?

He slips a hand onto the bed, and lays it on top of Steve’s hand. There was no sign of a struggle that’s what the doctors are saying, that’s what Bruce confirmed. Steve allowed - **allowed** Bucky to do this to him. It curdles Tony’s empty stomach to know that Steve would lie down for someone without thought. He knows that Steve would make the sacrifice play, for God’s sake the whole damned world knows his story – but this, this is different.

This confrontation – whatever it was – had been between two men and Steve made a decision not to fight. Tony wants to beg, wants to ask. Why? Why? Why?

Does Steve hate his life with Tony so much that he would lay down his defenses, offer himself off like a lamb to the slaughter. He knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of – Steve had been on the wrong end of that metal arm before – why would he do this to himself, to them, to Tony.

The door opens in a whisper and Tony acknowledges Sam as he steps into the room. Natasha follows him and she goes directly to Tony as Sam settles into the other chair in the room. Leaning over him, Natasha peels Tony’s hand from Steve’s and tugs him to his feet. He’s pliant and boneless.

“Come, don’t fight, just come.” 

He locks eyes with Sam, and, the man Steve considers his best friend, nods once and gives permission for Tony to leave his sacred watch. In these quiet moments, Tony knows how much Steve means to his circle of friends, to his team. 

Natasha brings Tony out into the hall. This is the hospital ward of the Tower. He needed to build it considering the loss of SHIELD and their dream of an Avengers World where they would privatize world peace by bringing together people with special talents and abilities. Steve had been surprisingly eager to form the new initiative.

As he steps out into the hallway, Pepper is there to hold. She encompasses him in her arms and there are no words. She doesn’t judge, she only holds him and pieces him together with her silence and her understanding. It is Rhodey that ends up leading him to his penthouse to clean up. He does it mechanically, efficiently, and nearly blind. He’s not sure what else he’s seeing but Steve’ battered face. 

Clint and Thor are there when he finishes showering and shaving, and pulling on clothes. They watch over him, guardians at his gate – a gate of fresh ache – that might slam shut so that he can no longer climb it, or find his way through it. Thor feeds him, offering him eggs and bacon and Clint plies him with coffee and juice. 

Once he’s finished he nods his silent thanks and it hurts even to accept these niceties because it isn’t Steve offering them. His team, his family is taking care of him because they know what’s happened. His foundation and support has been torn, and no amount of stitching will sew it back together again. He swallows the thickness in his throat and Natasha re-appears to bring him back to Steve’s room.

When they return, Sam stays with him. They sit without a word watching the ventilator help Steve breath, listening to the quiet beeps, and the blood pressure cuff inflate and deflate. The wires and tangles of the room appall him. Steve is not supposed to be here, Steve has _never_ been here.

As he watches the shift of light and shadow from outside the window on the far wall, the door opens again and Bruce walks in. He motions for Tony to follow him and both Tony and Sam stands up and leave Steve to join Bruce in the hallway.

“He’s doing better, the doctors think they’ll be able to take him off the ventilator tomorrow,” Bruce says. “His brain swelling has come down and he’s definitely more aware according to the brain scan this morning.”

“He’ll wake up?” Sam asks when the fear of knowledge paralyzes Tony.

“Yes, they think so, and probably very soon,” Bruce says. “The doctors are fairly certain that right now he’s slipping in and out of a normal sleep cycle.”

“I know this is a stupid question and all, but forgive the new guy. Any permanent damage? Not sure that’s possible with the serum, but you know, it’s pretty significant what happened,” Sam says as he eyes Tony.

“Right now, everything’s healing at a slow rate, much slower than we’ve seen before. But the extensive injuries and multiple injuries compounded on top of older ones-.”

“Two weeks,” Tony says. “That bastard tortured him for two fuc-.” He bites back his words and fists his hands trying not to blow his temper in front of Bruce. “Two weeks, he let him beat the crap and let him ra-.”

Bruce reaches out and grabs Tony’s shoulder. His expression intense and laden with empathy, and anger. “Don’t, don’t blame this on him. He’s the victim. Whatever you do, he is not to be blamed. He did what he thought was necessary. Even if you think it’s wrong. Don’t blame him.”

The press of Bruce’s fingers into his shoulder hurts, but Tony doesn’t shrug it off, he anchors to it. “I’ll try.” It is all he can promise.

“Back to the question?” Sam says, after a moment’s pause.

“Permeant injuries? We think, given the serum, probably not. It will take time for all of his injuries to be completely healed, but the progress he’s made is remarkable considering. Any ordinary individual would have been dead.” Bruce looks into the window where the critical care nurse is monitoring Steve. “I can’t say how this will affect him mentally, though.”

“Fucked up, that’s how it will be. His friend did this to him, not once, not twice, but again and again over two fucking weeks. How the hell do you think he’s going to feel? He’s god damned going to be broken.” Tony curses and turns away, now moving out of Bruce’s outstretched hand’s clasp. 

“Bucky didn’t do this,” Sam says, his voice small in the long hallway.

Tony fumes and turns around, seeing only the memory of Steve’s blood encrusted in the metal arm. “Really, then who the fuck did? Did you see him when he came dragging Steve in with him? He was _covered_ in Steve’s blood. He did everything, everything to hurt Steve.”

Bruce puts a hand up as if he’s calming the Hulk. “Tony, Sam’s not wrong.”

“What?” Tony says. “What the fuck?”

“The doctors are still analyzing what they’re seeing with Barnes, but it looks like he’s compartmentalized his personalities. He’s split between Bucky and the Winter Soldier. It was Bucky who brought Steve in, it was Bucky who saved him.” Bruce says. “But it wasn’t Bucky who did this to him.”

“Bucky should have kept the Winter Soldier away from -.”

The nurse appears at the door and quietly says, “Mister Stark, Captain Rogers is awake.”

It is all he can do not to shove her aside as he stride back into the room and to the head of the bed, where Steve’s eyes are blinking and he squints into the dim light of the hospital room. The blue in his eyes seems like the only color in the world, the only one that matters to Tony.

He cups Steve’s cheek, bruised, in his hand careful of the ventilator tubing. “You’re home, now, love, you’re home.”

Steve searches his face and Tony glimpses it – the cold hard fear of what’s happened, what Tony thinks, the haunting of the past manifesting as phantoms of the future.

“It’s fine, everything’s fine,” Tony lies and squeezes Steve’s hand with his other hand. 

Steve looks away because he can always tell when Tony’s lying, and it hurts and it stabs into his hollow chest where the arc reactor doesn’t sit anymore. It’s over and done and they’ve entered into a new kind of hell, the aftermath.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com) address if you are interested in following me. 
> 
> Yes I am supposed to be writing other things, apparently I am not.....


End file.
